


This little light

by Builder



Series: Canon ships and all that jazz [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome Clint Barton, Awesome Laura Barton, Caffeine Addiction, Caffeine Withdrawal, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Coffee, F/M, Parenting Moments, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: “Daaaad!”The complaint has Clint turning on his heel.  “What now?”He looks at the coffee pot still in his hand and wonders what the fuck he did with his mug.  And more urgently, how the fuck is he going to get the coffee into his body without it.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton
Series: Canon ships and all that jazz [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/951702
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	This little light

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @builder051

Clint yawns and stretches, scratching absently at his stomach as he reaches into the cupboard for a coffee mug. He has his choice between a standard issue black one swiped from the SHIELD breakroom or one bearing the legend ‘World’s Greatest Dad,’ which is, of course, the more appropriate choice, considering the two mini-me’s chomping cereal at the table behind him. Clint takes the mug and grabs for the still-dripping coffee pot, ready to pour himself a steaming cup of morning goodness, when Laura calls his name.

“Clint? Honey?” She comes down the stairs at a clip, the baby in her arms. “Where did I put the diaper cream?”

He doesn’t have a chance to even begin to think of an answer because Lila chooses that moment to call his other name. “Dad?”

“Yes, baby?” Clint gestures the coffee pot toward the living room for Laura, then looks to his daughter.

“Can I have more marshmallows?” Lila shakes the box of Lucky Charms.

“Well, uh–” Clint starts.

“That’s not how it works, doofus,” Cooper responds from across the table.

“Hey, now.” Clint jabs the empty mug toward his son, giving him a look that begs him to play nice. For god’s sake, it’s only 7 am. 

“Not the old kind,” Laura’s voice starts up again. “The new one; the sample that came with the diaper subscription.

“We have a diaper subscription?” Clint blinks hard. He shakes his head and goes back to the act of putting the coffee into the mug so it can get into his stomach and up to his brain, where it clearly needs to be. 

He’s gotten maybe two drops poured when–

“Daaaad, Cooper’s being mean to me!”

Clint whips his head around just quickly enough to see his son pull his hands back across the table from his sister’s cereal bowl. 

“What?” The ten-year-old asks with a naughty giggle. 

“Leave your sister’s breakfast alone,” is all Clint can manage. His mind is still bent around the diapers. “Your bus is gonna be here soon, right?” He looks at the clock emblazoned in the upper corner of the microwave. It is almost bus time. It has to be. 

“Yes, we have a diaper subscription,” Laura answers. “Is it in the kitchen? It’s purple.”

Clint blinks again and tears his focus from the neon teal display. “What do you need?” There is something on the counter beside the microwave, though. And it is purple. Clint puts down his mug and holds it up over his shoulder. “This?”

“Yes!” He hears the relief in his wife’s voice. “Thank you.”

Clint tosses the tube into the living room where it lands perfectly into the open diaper bag. He doesn’t have time to congratulate himself on a good shot, though, because the kids are at it again.

“Daaaad!”

The complaint has Clint turning on his heel. “What now?”

He looks at the coffee pot still in his hand and wonders what the fuck he did with his mug. And more urgently, how the fuck is he going to get the coffee into his body without it.

There’s a lonely metal straw leaning in the silverware cup of the drainer basket. Clint doesn’t think twice before snapping it up and jamming it through the hole in the lid of the coffee pot. He takes a deep swig of the piping hot liquid, then asks, “What’s the problem?”

The kids look at him dumbstruck for a second before they remember their scuffle. “Cooper has my butterfly folder,” Lila pouts.

“You only said stay out of her cereal–” Cooper starts before Clint can begin to chastise him. 

“Give it back. Don’t touch her things.”

“But I don’t think she did her math homework!” Cooper opens the pink and purple folder and waves around a fresh sheet of subtraction problems.

Sweat begins to break out on Clint’s brow, and he takes another deep drought of liquid caffeine before taking his tone down a notch and addressing his daughter, who’s already beginning to sniffle. It’s far too early in the morning for this kind of parenting. And it’s too close to bus time for tears.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Lila puts her hand over her mouth.

“Why didn’t you do your homework, baby?” Clint asks gently, groaning as he squats to her level. “Or why didn’t you tell us you had homework?”

Cooper starts to snicker, which only makes Lila cry all the harder.

“Hey.” Clint takes another sup and nots sternly. “You go put on your coat.”

Cooper stomps away from the table loudly taking up his backpack and pulling his coat and boots from the closet by the door. Clint hears Laura quickly secure diaper tabs and add her soft murmur to the mix.

“Ok.” Clint takes his son’s vacant seat and sucks down some more coffee. “What’s going on with this?” He can see the shadow of the bus approaching through the kitchen window, so whatever meltdown is about to happen, it had better be quick.

“It’s–too–hard–” Lila sobs, dropping her forehead onto folded hands. Her shoulders shake as she cries, her entire body expressing the trauma of elementary mathematics. 

“Aw, honey.” Clint tucks her hair behind her ear, but his hand is trembling as well, albeit for a different reason. “It’s ok if it’s hard. But we still have to try.”

He takes another drink. Then makes eye contact across the room with Laura over his daughter’s head. “What do you think?” Clint asks.

“Bus!” Cooper yells, swinging the door open and beginning to run down the long gravel driveway.

Lila makes a pitiful noise, and fatter, wetter tears run down her cheeks. Her nose drips right into her cereal bowl, which Clint now has the mental fortitude to push to the opposite edge of the table. 

Laura watches Cooper go, then bites her lip. “Call her in sick?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Clint sucks on his coffee again. It takes him a moment to realize he’s already finished it and he’s sipping on air. “A little more rest, a little tutoring, a little, I don’t know.” Clint stands up. “Marshmallows.” He takes a step and nearly trips. 

Suddenly Laura’s at his elbow. She glances at the empty coffee pot and straw. “Resourceful. You ok?”

“Yeah…” But Clint’s head swims and his stomach gives a groan of protest. “You know, scratch that.”

He steps quickly toward the sink and hangs his head over the basin just in time for the flood of coffee to come rushing back up. He sputters when it runs out of his nose as well as his mouth.

“Is Daddy sick?” Clint hears Lila ask.

“I’m fine,” he tries to say, but it winds up punctuated with a hiccup, which only means another wave is imminent. 

“He’ll be ok,” Laura’s voice answers. “But you’re both having a sick day today.”


End file.
